


(Actually) Magic Bullet

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e04 Magic Bullet, Fluff, Getting Together, Healing, Hurt Derek, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Making Out, Mates, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott is a Bad Friend, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Healing, Werewolf Mates, Witch Stiles Stilinski, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It wasn't like Stiles was about to saw off his own mate's arm, Jesus...He used magic instead; of course, magic required a slightly more...hands-on approach. If Derek wanted to include a little makeout session, well. Stiles wasn't complaining.





	(Actually) Magic Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so this is my first sterek fic and its super rushed, lmao forgive me
> 
> it's probs part of a series but idk yet, k byyee

  ‘Wolves thought that they were the only supernatural creature with the ability to sense their mates; they all had a little bit of a superiority complex in that sense, constantly bringing up the primality of their species, their race. 

  
 Witches were aware too - not in the same way as werewolves, no, not with scents and sounds and base feelings. Stiles felt emotions like he saw colours, heard sounds like he tasted sweetness. His senses were warped with synthesia, like any other witch. His bond, the _mate_  bond, with Derek was red, flickering like fire whenever Stiles gazed into the thin line tying them together like magnets; it was a new bond, unsteady and violent and _dangerous_ , and it was the best thing that Stiles had ever damn felt. 

 

 Derek thought so too. Stiles could sense it in his body, in his words - the wolf knew from the moment their eyes met in those woods that they were mates, could smell it, could hear it in the blood pumping through Stiles’ veins. Of course, he hadn’t acted on it, not with the pesky little issue of Stiles being sixteen and assumedly unaware of the bond. Consent was a finicky thing, especially with misunderstandings tangled up in both their minds. 

 

 It hadn’t stopped Stiles from yearning for Derek. It hadn’t stopped him from worrying, the constant anxiety in that spot under his heart suffocating him, dragging him into a near panic attack when Derek turned up at school, his eyes flashing blue - tragic, horrendous blue if Stiles was sure what it meant - and face twisted into an agonised grimace. 

 

 Scott had urged Stiles to take Derek to the animal clinic when it became clear that he wasn’t any closer to getting the bullet. Death stenched up Stiles’ car, and the witch was sure Derek was choking on the scent of his terror, love, longing.

 

 He didn’t comment on it as Stiles followed him inside, stumbling over the small steps into a large examination room.

  
 “If Scott doesn’t get here with the bullet in time - last resort,” Derek muttered, his breath gasping out like he had been punched. With Derek’s back turned away from Stiles, the triskele tattooed there was on full display - Stiles could sense the agrimony and sandalwood hidden within the ink, herbs of protection fused with Derek’s skin.  

 

 “Which is?” Stiles asked in a high whine, fear coating the inside of his throat like black oil.  

 

 “You're gonna cut off my arm,” Derek announced, turning back around. His eyes were bloodshot and his face pale, but as horrible as it was, Stiles’ eyes were immediately drawn to the motorised saw in Derek’s grip. 

 

 “Oh, my God,” Stiles breath shuddered out, swirling his words into one stream of hurt. “What if you bleed to death?”

 

 “It'll heal if it works,” Derek grunted, and no, that wouldn't do. Scott would come in time with the bullet because, holy shit, Stiles couldn't hurt _his mate_. 

 

 “Look - I don't know if I can do this,” Stiles said, his voice all but a sob. Derek had to know now, had to sense that Stiles understand the mate bond. It wasn't love yet, but Derek was the only person Stiles could ever love anymore. 

 

 “Why not?” Derek growled, obviously not getting it at all. 

 

 “Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!”

 

 “You faint at the sight of blood?” Derek asked incredulously. Stiles surprised his laughter, thinking back on the rituals he was doing when he was _six_  that involved dead corpses and blood sacrifices. 

 

 “No,” he hissed back, “but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!”

 

 “All right, fine.” Derek lunged forward across the table separating them. His claws grabbed at Stiles’ shirt, tearing holes in the fabric; Stiles wasn’t afraid though - even if Derek thought he was the only one aware, the fact was that he _was_  aware. Derek could feel the mate bond, and Stiles knew it wouldn’t permit him to ever injure his mate in the way he was threatening. “How about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I'll cut off your head.”

 

 Still, though, Derek had to know; Stiles wouldn’t leave him in the dark any longer. Derek had to learn _everything_.

 

 “You’d do that? Hmm? To _me_?” Stiles asked, a whisper curling out to fill the small space in between them. Derek’s eyes flashed for a second as Stiles pulled away. 

 

 It was now or never. “Sit down,” Stiles said in a low voice. Derek didn't make any move to the floor beneath him, didn't make any move at all. 

 

 “And what? You'll fix me using sarcasm?”

 

 Stiles let out a short chuckle, stepping around the table to situate himself squarely in front of Derek. The wolf stiffened as Stiles came closer, his breathing getting harsher, faster. Unable to tell if it was Stiles’ effect on him, or the bullet’s, Stiles took another step forward, seizing Derek by the arm, clenching tight in a spot right above the bullet wound. 

 

 Hissing, Derek fell to his knees, a low keening erupting from his chest as Stiles changed his grip to one around Derek’s neck. 

 

 “I'm sure this all seems very sudden,” Stiles breathed out, magic coating his tongue. His tone was deeper, rumbling in his chest. “Don't worry; it's sudden for me, too.”

 

 Scott wasn't any closer with the bullet. Stiles had come to terms with that - he'd come to terms with the fact he needed to reveal his magic to Derek (that had been a given anyways. Derek was his forever, now, and he couldn't have his forever if he kept lying to his own mate about his species). 

 

 “I knew I'd have to do this, someday. It doesn't make it easier, of course-”

 

 “What the fuck are you talking about?” Derek snarled, attempting to break the hold Stiles had on his throat. The magic in Stiles’ grip meant he was unable. 

 

 “Please, stop struggling,” Stiles slurred, way too aware that he sounded drunk. Drunk on magic. Drunk on love. 

 

 “You... You're-” Derek trailed off, head hitting the wall behind him hard as he stared up at Stiles. “You're a witch.”

 

Stiles hadn't realised that he had lost control so much that his eyes had begun to glow. 

 

 “10 points to Hufflepuff,” Stiles managed to gasp out, dropping to his knees beside Derek. The wolf immediately went for his hips, shivering with pain as he dragged Stiles closer, desperate to press further against his mate. It was half the comfort of the bond and half the healing magic sizzling on Stiles’ skin. 

 

 “M’not a... Hufflepuff…”

 

 “Yeah, you are,” Stiles smiled softly, rocking his weight into Derek, weak as a kitten as his magic coursed through the bond between him and Derek. It was natural to share his magic with his mate, so much so that he didn't have to mutter any incantation or move his hands in a particular way to spread the energy properly. Derek soaked it up like he was starving for it. 

 

 “You feel it? Right here?” Stiles asked, head dropping to Derek’s shoulder, hand gesturing to a spot below Derek’s heart. 

 

 “You shouldn't know about that,” Derek reached up wildly with his hands, pawing at the strip of skin under Stiles’ shirt by his hip and at his neck. His eyes were bright blue, light spreading down to his sharp, high cheekbones. 

 

 “Wolves aren't the only creatures that feel it.”

 

 Letting out a small, delirious laugh, Stiles took one Derek’s hands, pressing it against his chest. The width spanned half of Stiles’ chest, curling tight around his ribs on his left side. 

 

 “This is where my magic comes from. This is where I feel us. Our bond.” Derek groaned, partly due to the pulsing of magic and of _mate_ under Stiles’ clothes and partly due to sweet, almost pleasant burning sensation where he had been shot. Derek didn't need to look down to know that his wound was gone, leaving behind only smooth skin. 

 

 “ _Mate_ ,” he growled out, unable to stop the magnetic pull between him and Stiles. The witch, as Derek now understood him as, was ready for him, mouth open and red, lips seeking Derek. 

 Although it was a harsh collision, their teeth clacking together a little painfully, Derek found it was the best contact he had had in any relationship, possibly in his entire life. It was _right_  for them to be close, right for Stiles to arch up in Derek’s grip, right for him to moan so gorgeously when Derek pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth.

 

 Their first kiss, and the few that followed after were fueled by something primal and desperate; the first opportunity to express the mate bond was meant to be passionate, sure, but _God_ , Derek hasn't felt anything quite like this. 

 

 Stiles was in the middle of debating whether or not he should pull away to mouth at the curve of Derek’s neck, or continue to allow Derek to essentially tongue fuck him when the door banged open. 

 

 Growling, Derek held Stiles tight, fingers sure to leave bruises on his hips as Stiles attempted to spring away, embarrassment leaving a sheen of colour on his cheeks. When Derek’s hold proved too strong, Stiles relented, dipping back in for another taste of Derek’s mouth. 

 

 “Er….Guys?”

 

 It was the shock of Scott’s voice that pulled Stiles out of his lull of arousal - Derek, displeased by Stiles retreating, strengthened his hold on Stiles’ hip. His other hand, overtop Stiles’ chest, couldn’t move, but Derek was satisfied with Stiles’ fingers tangled with his.

 

 “Scott! You…”

 

 “Have the bullet,” Scott finished for him. His eyes were wide and almost angry, fingers white with how hard their grip was on the countertop. Eyeing the motorised saw with a strange look, Scott fished the bullet from his pocket and laid it flat on the table.

 

 “We kinda...forgot about that..” Stiles trailed off, unbearably awkward. It was becoming much less comfortable to be perched on Derek’s lap in the way he was, much less comfortable to still be able to feel the imprints of Derek’s teeth on his bottom lip, especially with how much fury Scott seemed to be directing at them.

 

 “I can see that. I need to talk to you. _Outside_.”

 

 As if that was enough, as if Scott had a right to be angry, the new wolf stalked out, huffing loudly. When it was clear that Scott wasn’t in Derek’s line of sight, the beta snapped forward, teeth closing in around Stiles’ throat. His mouth was hot and wet against Stiles’ pulse point, causing the witch to moan, loud.

 

 “You have no idea how much I want to give you the claiming bite,” Derek sighed against the flesh of Stiles’ neck. 

 

 “Oh my, God. You have no shame, do you?” Stiles murmured, his tone a little forlorn. Derek’s brow furrowed, confused by Stiles’ sudden sadness. 

 

 “Stiles…” Derek began, immediately assuming that it was him that was making Stiles upset. They had collided rather suddenly and Derek was admittedly a lot to get used to.

 

 “You’re my mate, Derek,” Stiles whispered, seeming to be tempted to dip down and kiss Derek again. “You’re mine, yeah? And I’m yours,” he continued, brushing Derek’s hair back from his forward. “However,” Stiles made his way to his feet with a soft sigh, helping Derek to his own feet, “I think I need to go see Scott.”

 

 Sighing, Stiles ran a finger against the smooth skin of Derek’s arm, smiling at the fact his magic had healed the wolf completely. “I promise I’ll explain everything. The bond, the magic. Take care of yourself.”

 

 “You too…” Derek whispered, feeling a little lost when Stiles gave him a shaky smile and then just left. 

 

 The emptiness of the room was suffocating and Derek couldn’t help the creeping anxiety that dragged him running all the way to Stiles’ home - the teen wasn’t there when he arrived. But, holy shit, Stiles was his _mate_. Derek could wait for him. He would wait for him. 


End file.
